


Fallen

by aykayem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a point at which Draco realised his life wasn't quite as perfect as he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witblogi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witblogi/gifts).



There was a point at which Draco realised his life might not have been nearly as perfect as he initially thought.

It was as though years had passed in a blur, taking no more than the time it took him to blink. The last thing he remembered when he closed his eyes was Hogwarts, fifth year: his absolute prime, despite what Blaise may have said. He had a superficial girlfriend who didn’t care whom he slept with so long as he was on her arm at the end of the day. He had enough observation to be able to see exactly who wanted him, enough class to be able to lead them on for a week or two, and enough skill to be able to leave them wanting more.

He had not only a Prefect’s badge, but an Inquisitorial Squad badge, both pinned just above his rather unfeeling heart. He had a charming grin that made everyone forgive his every failing and reward even the most mediocre of performances just on merit. He had the ability to stride down the hallways of the school, staring down his nose at everyone, and never even have to pause for eye contact; he had a pair of henchmen flanking him at every turn.

He had a doting mother who sent him monthly care packages, usually filled with expensive sweets and whatever his fancy had taken to in passing weeks. He had a father whose name could be used to terrify and manipulate based on merely the most empty of threats. He had everything, perpetually handed to him on a silver platter.

And then, as if karma had simply decided Draco Malfoy had been taking and taking and taking, all without ever giving anything back, he had nothing.

Suddenly, eyes were wide open, the horrors of life thrown upon him like the world to Atlas’ shoulders. Fear and nerves replaced pride and eternal composure; it took far too long to settle down into silent resignation. His cards had been dealt. He had been tried and found wanting. He was Lucifer, an angel fallen so far from heaven he had lost all recognition on the way down.

Suddenly, he was back at square one: he had a mission to accomplish, something he had to do all on his own. He had nothing around him but air and tension, had barely the clothes on his back and the wand in his hand. Then he didn’t even have that.

He had enough intelligence to know when to keep his mouth shut, enough stealth to be able to keep himself alive, and enough cunning to know who was left to manipulate. He had what little would allow him to stay out of the way, and he had a name that people sneered at when he walked down the street, head kept down to make him as unassuming as possible.

Then he had a wife, a ring on her finger that he didn’t even pay for. Then he had a receding hairline and crows’ feet. Then he had a son named Scorpius whom, despite his best efforts, people still called ‘Scorp’. He had no idea where the time had gone, had no idea how he could get it back, and had no idea when it was just going to pack it in and say fuck it all.

Draco stared at himself in the mirror, long fingers tracing the reflection. He could swear that young man was still there somewhere, beneath the creases in his forehead, beneath the bags under his eyes, beneath the chapped lips bitten raw too many times to count. He was still that young man; he still had his memories, everything that made him who he was. He had the happy thoughts of his childhood, the memories of tormenting Potter day in and day out, the first time he took to a broom; they mingled with the bad like anyone else, dragging him from his perfect life down a road he didn’t even know existed. It was a road his father had travelled, and a road he was certain he wouldn’t be the last to find. Once upon a time, the road to Enoch, now the road to mediocrity - perhaps living in the shadows of his own self was better than being lost to sin.


End file.
